


Courting a Rose with Only Thorns

by roseinthebusiness



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AU in which Petra was not originally a part of the Black Eagles, Courting Rituals, Eventual Smut, F/F, Mistaken Identity, Past unrequited love, Post Game AU, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, Yearning, courting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23479231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseinthebusiness/pseuds/roseinthebusiness
Summary: “We were thinking of welcoming the princess with a ball her first night here,” Byleth says.“A ball?” Dorothea asks, becoming a bit excited. “Shall only the most eligible of bachelors and maidens attend?”Edie chuckles. “Nothing so obvious. However, we would appreciate it if you were to attend, Dorothea.”Dorothea raises her eyebrows at that. “Surely, you cannot mean…”After the war has ended and peace returns to Fodlan, Edelgard works to make treaties with other nations. In Brigid, it is customary for the princess to marry someone from a newly allied nation in order to cement that relationship. Dorothea is unsure of love and being loved but maybe Petra will break down those walls.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Minor or Background Relationship(s), past unrequited Dorothea/Byleth, past unrequited Dorothea/Edelgard
Comments: 41
Kudos: 220





	1. A Ball

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I've wanted to write a f/f fic for Three Houses for so long but none of my daydreams were inspiring enough to actually write! UNTIL THIS ONE! I cannot wait to get to the yearning and the courtship rituals and the yEARNING!! Please enjoy!

“A wonderful performance.”

Dorothea turns from her vanity and sprints over to Edelgard who is standing with Byleth in the entrance to Dorothea’s dressing room.

“Edie!” she exclaims. “You came!”

Dorothea crushes her friend in a hug. She doesn’t get to hold Edie like this that much these days. Normally, Edelgard is dressed in her formal armor and horned headpiece so it’s hard to hug her without getting poked or her dress or hair getting snagged on something.

Edelgard returns the hug.

Dorothea then turns her gaze toward Byleth. “And you too, Professor?”

Both Byleth and Edelgard are dressed in their best. Edelgard is wearing a beautiful red formal gown with silver accents. Her hair is up in a bun that glints with various jewelled and golden pins. Meanwhile Byleth is wearing a form-fitting black gown with a plunging neckline. Byleth is also adorned with a beautiful opal necklace that sparkles a soft pink hue in the light of the gas lamps.

“We both had to come to support you,” Byleth says, rather strained when she receives the same bone-crushing fate as her wife.

When Dorothea releases Byleth, she looks at them trying not to become emotional. They had all worked so hard to fight for this world of peace. There had been days in the trenches tending to her soldiers’ wounds, tending to Edie, Byleth, Bernie, Caspar, Lindhardt, Ferdie, and Hubert, when Dorothea had thought that there would be no end. Everyday would be the same. Like Sysiphus, rolling a boulder up the hill. Except everyday, instead of fighting gravity, she would be fighting the elements, the enemy, the precious blood trying to escape the veins of people she cherished.

When the day came that Edie had finally realized her ambition, Dorothea remembered not truly believing it was over. It wasn’t until months later, when she had resumed her place at the Middlefrank Opera house and fell into the comfort of the routine that she finally wept from relief.

And now looking at two people she loved and cherished more than anything who were married, happy, safe, alive, it was more than she could have ever hoped for.

“Will you two stay for a bit?” Dorothea found herself asking. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had you two all to myself.”

Edie and Byleth exchange a quick look, and Byleth is the one who says, “That would be lovely.”

Dorothea makes them tea and has a stagehand boy bring them treats from the kitchen. They talk about how the opera house is doing well and where Caspar and Lindhardt had been on their most recent adventures. They talked about the Officer’s Academy and how Bernie had taken up professorship there and how her students loved her.

Dorothea feels herself ache for the time when all of them had been together and could see each other everyday. She misses them.

At some point, Edie began to speak about politics and a princess of an island nation with whom she had been negotiating a treaty.

“Apparently, it is customary for the next leader of their nation to choose a spouse from a country with whom they wish to be allies,” Edie says.

Byleth smiles. “And I am afraid that you are quite taken, my love,” she says, as she takes Edie’s hand and plants a kiss on it.

Dorothea smiles as Edie attempts to hide her blush behind a sip from her teacup.

“What will you do?” Dorothea asks.

“I am unsure,” Edie says. “The princess will arrive in a week’s time in order to further discuss the terms of the treaty. From what I understand, the princess does not have a preference on the gender of her prospective betrothed, but may have a taste for brunettes.”

Dorothea ignores the pointed look that Edie gives her and flips her hair back. “Well, certainly she has good taste, then.”

“We were thinking of welcoming the princess with a ball her first night here,” Byleth says.

“A ball?” Dorothea asks, becoming a bit excited. “Shall only the most eligible of bachelors and maidens attend?”

Edie chuckles. “Nothing so obvious. However, we would appreciate it if you were to attend, Dorothea.”

Dorothea raised her eyebrows at that. “Surely, you cannot mean…”

Edie puts her hands up in a placating gesture. “I would never force you into a marriage in which you were not comfortable. However, when thinking of the best Adrestia has to offer for a sovereign princess, there can only be one who comes to mind. And that is you, Dorothea.”

Dorothea felt herself blush at the compliment but could not swallow her irritation. “So am I to be traded like some cattle in this treaty of yours, Edie?” 

“Of course not,” Edie says. Her face displays regret, disappointment and hurt that Dorothea has to quickly look away. “I only mean that I cannot think of a more suitable match for the Princess of Brigid than you. You are smart, compassionate, and powerful, Dorothea. Not to mention beautiful. If you would be the consort to any ruler, surely that nation would be better for having you. Beyond that, anyone would be lucky to call you their wife. That is all that I meant. If you are not amenable, we will not force you. We only wanted to give you the option.”

“I’m sorry, Edie,” Dorothea says. “I just… don’t know how ready I am to be someone’s wife. Anyone’s wife. Much less, a princess’s wife.”

Edie relaxes and reaches a hand across the table. Dorothea takes it. Edie squeezes her hand and smiles at her.

“It’s alright, Dorothea. You are a dear friend and I will not force you into anything. However, it would honor us if you were to attend the ball. If only to spend more time with you.”

Byleth nods her agreement and puts her hand on her wife’s shoulder.

Dorothea smiles at them. “Have you ever known me to say no to a party?”


	2. A Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea goes out the the market on an errand and meets a beautiful stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for leaving kudos and comments and bookmarks! I am telling you all right now that this is going to be very self-indulgent for ME! So I hope that you like it too! Also I've been watching a LOT of Cinderella recently so may or may not have been influenced by that but we will see in upcoming chapters! My hope is to update once per week!

The day of the ball is coming sooner than Dorothea anticipates. She hardly has time for Bernie to mend the gown she is going to wear. She wore it at a performance event a few months back and thought the beautiful deep blue gown would make just the right statement. However, it had been an accident since the stage had not been renovated and there was one pesky nail sticking out of the floorboards. Just enough to snag on the back of her beautiful dress.

Bernie also agrees to go with Dorothea to the ball. Not without a lot (and certainly more than a lot) of cajoling. 

Dorothea goes to the market the day after Edie and Byleth tell her about the ball. She needs to get the right thread to match her dress. Bernie is waiting at Dorothea’s apartment since going out to the market and then again for the ball would be too much for little Bernie’s heart.

Dorothea comes to the fabric vendor and marvels at all of the expensive silk and spun wool. The vendor greets her while continuing to weave what looked like an enormous tapestry.

“Good afternoon,” the vendor says.

“Good afternoon,” Dorothea answered. “I was wondering if you sell any thread.”

The vendor smiles and says, “Yes, of course.” She brings out a tray with an assortment of spools displaying a wide variety of threads. Dorothea scans the threads to see if she can find something that would as closely match her gown as was possible.

Dorothea describes what she needs to the vendor who nods and then picks up a spool and shows it to Dorothea. “Sounds like you’ll be wanting this. Beautiful blue cotton thread.”

Dorothea holds back a sigh of relief. Cotton doesn’t sound that expensive. “I’ll take it,” she said. “How much?”

“Twenty-five,” said the vendor, holding out her hand.

“Oh, well, a hard bargain indeed,” Dorothea said, fishing for a 25 piece coin from her purse.

Dorothea sees from out of the corner of her eye another customer walk up to the counter and quietly survey the wares. Dorothea feels eyes on her as she rummages through her purse. She pays it no mind. Years of working at the opera house has made her a bit of a celebrity. People will often stop and whisper, “There’s Dorothea Arnault of the Middle Frank Opera House,” or more recently, “There’s Dorothea Arnault a songstress and one of Her Majesty’s head mages on her strike force.”

When she finds the coin, she holds it out for the vendor to take. The vendor chuckles and says, “Oh, no. My mistake, my lady. Not twenty-five, but twenty-five hundred.”

“Hundred?” Dorothea balks. “For thread?”

“Yes,” says the vendor. “This is the finest of cotton and this beautiful color of blue can only be used by crushing a precious gemstone for dye. And there are no strains of this particular gemstone in Fodlan. So naturally it is imported from elsewhere. Very rare indeed.”

“Indeed,” Dorothea says. She rather sheepishly puts her 25 piece back into her purse. “Well, that’s a bit too steep for me. Is there another blue thread that may be less expensive?”

“Yes, but unfortunately, the other threads would be too strong for the material of your dress,” the vendor says sympathetically.

Dorothea wishes that she had Bernie with her. Bernie knows more about sewing than she does. Bernie would at least know if what this vendor says is true. Maybe she could quickly go back and check with Bernie.

Dorothea is about to thank the vendor for their time and head back when the other customer begins to speak up. 

“Would this be having a similar value to the thread?”

Dorothea takes in the stranger in full. She is taken aback by the imposing figure the stranger portrays. Dorothea and this woman are around the same height but the woman’s muscles ripple from her biceps to her core to her legs. Her brown skin glows in the sun and her purple hair is tied up in a complicated system of braids and beads. Her dress is clearly not of Fodlan as she exposes not only her upper arms, but her legs, and midriff as well.

The stranger is holding up a bead that shines the same color as the thread.

“I am thinking that the precious stone is the lapis lazuli, yes?” the woman asks.

The vendor smiles and says, “Yes, precisely.”

“Would you be accepting of this bead in place of the twenty-five hundred? It is being made of the same gemstone.”

“I… well…” The vendor quickly looks between her two customers and then shrugs. “I would gladly take that fine piece of jewelry if you are so willing to part with it.”

The woman hands over the bead as the vendor gives her the spool of expensive thread.

“A pleasure doing business, my lady,” the vendor says, bowing.

“Yes!” The woman says smiling eagerly. “I am also having pleasure in this.”

The woman then turns her eyes toward Dorothea. Dorothea has never seen such striking eyes. She feels her heartbeat quicken and she feels her face getting red.

“Here,” the woman says. She offers the thread to Dorothea. “I am thinking…” She stops and furrows her brow in thought. “I mean, I think you would have use for this more than me.”

Dorothea blinks with her mouth agape like a fish. She brings a hand to her mouth and attempts to collect herself.

“I very much thank you for your kindness, however, I couldn’t… possibly…” Dorothea can’t look away from those eyes.

“Please,” the woman says, slightly shaking the thread for emphasis. “I was having fun doing the… haggling. Besides, the gemstone is plentiful in the country where I am being from.”

Dorothea, about to reject the thread again, stops as the words catch in her throat. This beautiful woman steps closer to her, opens up her palm and places the thread inside. The woman’s hands are rough and warm and wonderful. Dorothea has to shake her thoughts away before she thinks of those hands cupping her face. The woman smiles again and gently closes Dorothea’s hand over the thread.

“I would be having great joy if you were to be taking this,” she insists.

“Well, I suppose it would be rude to say no to a generous gift such as this,” Dorothea gasps out. She manages to pull herself together enough to say, “Thank you.”

The woman nods and lightly pats Dorothea’s closed hands with her own. She gives a nod to the vendor before turning away.

“Wait!” Dorothea says, before she can come up with a reason to make this beautiful woman stay.

The woman turns.

“I…” Dorothea scrambles for something to say. “You must let me repay you somehow.”

The woman stops and blinks at her. When she doesn’t say anything, Dorothea surmises that she must.

“There is a cafe not too far from here. Karamell. Will you meet me there tomorrow at noon?”

The woman says the name of the cafe a few times before nodding. “I am looking forward to it,” she says and she disappears into the crowd.

Dorothea clutches the thread close to her chest, replaying the conversation and wondering if that had all been real and not the most wonderful and intense daydream she ever had.

She jolts out of her thoughts when she hears the vendor laugh and call to someone in another tent.

“Clarice! Clarice! Love is blooming in front of my shop!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And again! Comments, kudos are the life blood we writers crave! Go talk to me at roseinthebussines.tumblr.com if you want to scream with someone about petrathea!


	3. A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea meets the woman at a cafe and they get to know each other better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the wonderful response! I am glad you all are enjoying my self-indulgent fanfic! Please enjoy this chapter which is just straaaaiiigghht up fluff! Also shout out to my fiancee who has been beta-reading my chapters! Love you babe!

Dorothea surmises that perhaps drinking coffee before her beautiful stranger appears might not be the best of plans. She had not had anything to eat yet today because she simply could not have eaten anything that morning. She hardly had any sleep last night either. Too enchanted by the fantasies swirling about in her head that starred no other than the beautiful woman who had valiantly bartered away a precious gemstone just for her.

Dorothea finds while sitting and waiting in the cafe that caffeine and an empty stomach brings about jitters and shakes.

Dorothea is about to ask a waitress to see their lunch menu when the front door of the cafe opens and Dorothea is overcome by an alluring scent of sandalwood and balsam.

She looks up and there is the woman that has been plaguing her every thought since yesterday afternoon. The woman’s eyes glance around the cafe until landing on her. Dorothea is at once surprised and resigned to discover her heartbeat could still quicken.

Dorothea does her best to put on a warm and beguiling smile. She is about to call out to this woman but remembers that she does not even know her name.

The woman seems to have the same thought and instead of calling out to one another, the woman walks quietly to the booth that Dorothea is sitting in and takes her hand.

“My lady,” the woman says. “Please be forgiving me. I do not seem to be recalling your name.”

“Ah, no, it’s-...” Dorothea finds herself having trouble forming a cohesive thought around this woman. The scent of sandalwood and balsam is stronger now that the woman is closer to her. Dorothea thinks that the woman standing before her is even more resplendent and breathtaking than her memory and daydreams of her. 

Dorothea clears her throat and tries again.

“It’s quite alright. I do not think we ever formally introduced ourselves. I am Dorothea Arnault,” Dorothea says, praying that the palm that this beautiful mysterious woman is holding is not sweating.

“Dorothea,” the woman says, as if memorizing the sounds and her face. “It is...quite the pleasure to be meeting you. I am Petra Macneary, soverei-...” she cuts herself off as Dorothea sneezes.

“I beg your pardon,” Dorothea says, trying to find a handkerchief in her purse.

The woman, Petra, shakes her head and produces a handkerchief of her own and offers it to Dorothea. As Dorothea takes the handkerchief with a small ‘thank you’, Dorothea finds the source of her sudden hay fever.

“I… flowers?” Dorothea asks.

Petra offers the bouquet that she is holding of 13 long-stemmed flowers flourishing with black petals.

“Yes, they are for you. These flowers are being of my homeland. I was hoping of giving them to you.”

“You’re homeland?” Dorothea asks as she takes the flowers. Dorothea inhales the sweet and potent scent of the flowers. “They’re lovely.”

Petra does not say anything for a few beats and instead is content to sit down across from Dorothea and bore holes into her face as she gazes intently at her.

It is only when Dorothea looks up into Petra’s eyes that Petra blinks a few times and then re-engages in the conversation.

“Ah, yes. They are ‘black irises’. I am thinking that this is what you call them in your language,” Petra says.

Dorothea smiles and says, “Will you tell me about this secret homeland you hail from? Or am I to only guess and remain enraptured by this air of mystery about you?”

The tips of Petra’s ears turn red and Dorothea has to hold in a smug chuckle. 

“My homeland is being Brigid. It is being a group of islands off of your western coast.”

“Brigid…” Dorothea says. “What business do you have in Fodlan? If you do not mind me asking.”

Petra sighs. “I am not minding your asking, however, it is not something I am wishing to talk about at the moment.”

Dorothea nods, understanding that there are some things one does not wish to talk about. She often would dodge questions thrown at her about the war. Various women, men, and people she would have otherwise charmed in the hopes that romance would bloom between them would often ask to be regaled on battles that were fought and won and lost. The way they had asked had made Dorothea seethe with a white hot ire she did not know she had the capability of feeling. The audacity. The raw nerve of someone asking her to traumatize herself again by reliving a waking nightmare. By reliving the anguish and the festering sorrow of watching her friends, her soldiers die in gruesome and horrible ways. How dare they ask her to retell stories of that hellscape as if they were asking about a tea party she had thrown.

“Oh… very well. Consider the subject changed,” Dorothea says.

“I am… grateful,” Petra says, smiling at her.

“Well, are you thirsty? I did after all ask you to join me for coffee…” Dorothea says.

Petra seems to brighten up at that. “Yes, I would be greatly enjoying that.” Her statement is also punctuated by a well-timed growl of the stomach.

Petra holds her hands to her stomach and says a bit abashed, “And perhaps if there are being foods here, I would be liking to partake.”

“You and I are of a similar mind,” Dorothea says.

Petra orders a coffee and a meat pie and fresh fruits and asks the server what kinds of treats were available. The server recommended the Bienenstich. Petra’s eyes lit up and announced to the server that they would order two servings of the pastry.

Dorothea orders a water and fresh fruits as well. Dorothea tries to dissuade Petra from buying two servings of the Beinenstich saying that she would be quite happy with only the fruit.

“No sense,” Petra says. “Treats are being better when they are shared.”

Dorothea smiles and concedes.

Over lunch they talk about treats and foods they like and dislike. That conversation leads them to a discussion of their (or particularly in Dorothea’s case lack of) culinary skills. Petra promises that before her supplies from Brigid run out, she would make a dish from her homeland just for her. The way that Petra describes it does get Dorothea’s mouth watering she is embarrassed to say.

“It is of cooked meats, particularly lamb, with rice, yogurt, and… thin… ah, you mix flour with water and heat it…”

“Bread?” Dorothea guesses.

Petra nods. “It is seeming that this is the closest word in your language. But the bread is flat and not fluffy like your bread. And instead of using the utensils you are using the bread to eat the meat and rice without getting your hands dirty.”

Dorothea had a hard time picturing picking up meat and rice with a loaf of bread and surely that isn’t how Petra meant.

“Well, I look forward to it,” Dorothea says and she is rewarded with a smile that she wants to protect.

They continued on with their conversation well into the afternoon. When their server no longer waited even five minutes before asking if there was anything else, they decided to leave.

“Let me walk you to your flat,” Petra says.

Dorothea honestly could not tell if Petra was being chivalrous or if she would be waiting for Dorothea to invite her inside for more… discussion. But Dorothea agrees and Petra offers her arm. They walk arm-in-arm to her flat right above the opera house. The whole way there Dorothea was at war with herself on whether or not she should invite the stranger in.

Petra was beautiful and she felt safe with her. Why shouldn’t she offer?

But a fear she had not experienced in awhile formed in the back of her mind. The fear of rejection. The fear of reading the signals wrong. The fear of tainting what could be a wonderful and fulfilling friendship with lust too early on.

When they finally got up to the entrance to her quarters, Dorothea did not know what to do.

“Ah, thank you for this wonderful afternoon,” Dorothea starts.

“I should be thanking you,” Petra says. “I am… glad to be knowing you. I was a little… afraid of coming to Fodlan. But knowing you… has been giving me comfort. So I thank you.”

Petra took Dorothea’s hand in hers much like yesterday. Except this time, Petra bends her head down and lays a sweet kiss on her knuckles.

Dorothea feels her face go hot and stumbles over her words. Petra looks into her eyes, knowingly. She squeezes her hand again and asks, “When can I be seeing you again?”

“Uh, the day after tomorrow?” She has a performance and rehearsal tomorrow. Dorothea is not sure whether or not she is ready for Petra to see her perform.

“Shall I meet you here? At noon again?” Petra asks.

“Yes.”

Petra leans in and Dorothea fights to keep herself upright as her knees threaten to buckle. Dorothea thinks Petra is about to kiss her.

But Petra leans a bit to the side and kisses her on her cheek.

She pulls back until their noses and a hair’s breadth apart. “I can hardly be waiting until I see you again, Dorothea.”

And she walks away after exchanging quick goodbyes. Dorothea has to lean against her door for a while until her legs find the strength to support her again.

As she unlocks her door, Dorothea cannot help but to chastise herself for not being more bolder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, come to my tumblr and scream at me about petradora. Litchrally nothing would make me happier! roseinthebusiness.tumblr.com. Also comments are always appreciated! :D


	4. A Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth visits Dorothea again on her performance night. Talking to Byleth alone brings up old feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been a bit since I updated but I hope you like this next chapter! It's a little more angsty! I also updated the tags so take a gander at those before reading.

The performance is more or less like any other performance that Dorothea had done lately. During one of her arias, Dorothea thought that she saw that Edie’s personal box was occupied. She is proven right when she hears someone rapping at her dressing room door. Of course, Byleth is standing in the doorway with a bouquet of yellow roses.

“Professor!” Dorothea shouts. She rushes over to her and hugs her again.

“Didn’t we just see each other the other night?” Byleth asks. Dorothea can tell by her tone that Byleth wants to sound exasperated but is just as excited to see her as Dorothea is to see Byleth.

“Yes,” Dorothea admits, “but still… I don’t think I have really gotten the chance to talk to you alone recently. Not since the wedding.”

Byleth smiles. A traitorous part of her makes her heart skip a beat at the sight. She quells it as much as she can these days.

“Come in,” Dorothea says. “Come in and sit.”

Byleth does. Dorothea wants to ask where Edie has gone but figures that she has probably gotten tangled up in imperial duties.

During the course of their conversation, Byleth confirms her suspicions by telling her that Edelgard is disappointed she wasn’t able to come tonight.

“Please,” Dorothea says, rolling her eyes good-naturedly, “I don’t expect Edie to come to all of my shows. It was nice to see her the other night though.”

Byleth’s face to someone uninitiated in the art of reading her would say that it was blank, devoid of emotion. But Dorothea, and probably any one of the Black Eagles, could tell that she was nervous about something.

“Is there something that you wanted to talk about, Professor?” Dorothea asks.

Byleth sighs and pushes her bangs back from her face. For a moment, the nape of her neck is exposed. Dorothea’s eyes linger for too long.

“Edelgard told me to ask you again about the princess of Brigid…” Byleth says, looking guilty.

“Brigid?” Dorothea asks.

“Yes, the one for whom the ball is for…” Byleth explains.

“Yes, I recall…”

Dorothea plays with the end of her changing robe, thinking. Finally, she asks, “Has the princess already arrived?”

Byleth shakes her head. “No, not that I’m aware of. She’s supposed to be coming in by the end of this week.”

Dorothea nods and exhales a breath she had not realized she was holding.

“I really am flattered that you and Edie have taken an interest in my love life, however, I believe that my answer is still the same.”

Byleth nods, resigned, as if she had been expecting that answer.

“We would just like to see you happy, is all…” Byleth said. Her face is once again blank but Dorothea could sense some kind of regret from Byleth’s eyes.

Dorothea forces a laugh and hopes it sounds light and genuine. “I honestly hope that you two are not trying to set me up with a princess because of any lingering guilt the two of you are feeling.”

The regret and sadness in Byleth’s eyes build as she repeats her words. “We would just like to see you happy…”

Dorothea balls the end of her robe into her fist. “I am… Truly. I have the operahouse. My friends… I’ve actually…”

Dorothea debates within herself to tell Byleth about Petra. She doesn’t need her approval. And, in that case, approval for what? A coffee? A peck on the hand and cheek?

“I’ve actually been quite happy, lately. The world is at peace. I have everything that my younger self ever wanted.”

Byleth shakes her head. She knows it’s a lie. Dorothea’s younger self would stop at nothing until she found someone to love her. To take care of her. To keep her safe. But Byleth doesn’t interrupt. Dorothea is grateful for that at least.

“Just because I currently do not have someone in my life to share it with, it doesn’t mean that I am not happy.”

“I’m not trying to suggest that you are,” Byleth says, but leaves it at that. She doesn’t try to justify what she means. But Dorothea still knows what she means, even if she did not explain it.

Dorothea has always felt there was a part of her missing. As much as she wishes it wasn’t true, and as much as she wishes she could confidently say that she did not need anyone to speak the words ‘I love you’ or buy her pretty things or other romantic nonsense, she did. She wanted it so badly it hurt sometimes. She is a woman with her own career, her own legacy, what does she need a significant other for. But Dorothea knows that in the moments that she had gotten close to having a lover, back then with Byleth and currently with Petra, she can feel that emptiness inside her start to close. To heal. As much as she wishes she could say that she doesn’t need anyone to love her above anyone else, she can’t. Because she does.

“Yes, well…” Dorothea says, weakly, not knowing what else to say.

Byleth reaches across the table and takes her hand. 

The feeling takes her back to late nights during the war, when Byleth and Dorothea had been constructing battle strategies for her mage units. She would get so frustrated or tired or anxious, that Byleth would come around with a hot tea, and gently take her hand. She would tell her of the wonderful things that would happen at the end of the war. The peace. The prosperity. 

Dorothea had thought at the time that she had found the one she was supposed to be with. It wasn’t going to be like how it was with Edie. A clumsy confession and months of not speaking because of the awkward rejection. Dorothea thought of all the love letters she and Byleth would write to each other. All of the places on Byleth’s body she would get to touch. She hadn’t known at the time that Edie had felt very similarly toward Byleth. Or that Byleth had returned Edie’s feelings.

When their wedding was announced, Dorothea shattered. An irrational thought had plagued her for what had seemed like an eternity. What had been the point of the war then? If she couldn’t have Byleth and have her happy ending at the end of the war, what was the point? 

The shame arises in her while speaking to Byleth, opening like a scab that had been picked off right before it would heal.

Dorothea takes her hand away. She turns to face the wall beside her and wills the tears away. She’s an actress. It’s easy enough.

She clears her throat and says while keeping her eyes downcast, “You two don’t have to worry about me. However, I know it won’t stop you. And the thought is… comforting.”

“Just because we don’t have to, doesn’t mean we won’t. We love you, Dorothea. I hope you know that,” Byleth says.

“Yes, I do,” Dorothea says, because she does. Sometimes, she is painfully aware of it. Aware that neither of them ever saw fit to love her in the way she wanted from them.

She forces her eyes back up to Byleth. She smiles at her. It’s so genuine and true. Dorothea couldn’t remember if Byleth ever smiled like that during the war. Or even before. The realization that Edelgard and Byleth truly loved each other, the kind of love that Dorothea could only counterfeit and pawn off for profit in her performances. That realization had helped Dorothea accept them and more than that to be happy for them.

The conversation turned light after that and eventually Byleth excused herself citing such and such duty or reason. 

Dorothea saw her off with a hug and made her promise that next time Byleth attended a performance Edie needed to come. It was mostly for show, she didn’t expect Edie to put her work aside just to see her, but Byleth promises to bring her next time.

After Byleth leaves, Dorothea begins to take off her stage make up when another knock comes at her door.

“Yes?” she asks.

An usher comes in looking rather flustered. He is carrying more flowers and a garment bag.

“Uh, Miss Dorothea?” he says.

“Oh, put the flowers over here on the dresser, and is that my new costume?”

“Uh, no miss. And I believe you should read the card.”

Dorothea reaches for the card within the flowers petals and opens it. 

It reads:

“A beautiful performance. From a beautiful woman.  
I understand you will be at the ball at the end of the week.  
It would give me great honor and pleasure for you to wear this dress.

Yours,  
Princess of Brigid”

Dorothea drops the card. She snatches the garment bag from the usher and tears it open.

Inside the garment bag, is a beautiful red dress. Not the kind of dress she is accustomed to but more along the lines of what Petra wears. There’s intricate embroidery depicting flowers inlaid with various precious gemstones.

Dorothea seethed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! As always please feel free to leave a comment or a kudos! It helps me write faster I promise. Also go and follow me on tumblr on roseinthebusiness! Talk to me about DorotheaxPetra!


	5. A Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea thinks Edelgard and Byleth have been meddling in affairs they shouldn’t. So she pays them a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait for this update! Things in real life have been crazy but I hope you enjoy this chapter! As always kudos and comments are me life blood! <3

After interrogating the usher and several other staff members, Dorothea storms down to the commissary where most gifts and flowers are brought for the performers by members of the audience.

The man working the commissary looks tired and is directing ushers to give these flowers or these chocolates to such and such performer. Dorothea remembers the man’s name to be Lazar.

“Ah, Lady Dorothea!” A smile alights his face when he sees Dorothea coming closer. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Lazar, it is good to see you,” Dorothea says, strained. “I, um, seem to have gotten a present by mistake. Would you please direct this dress to the lucky performer for whom it is actually intended?”

“Ah, yes,” Lazar says, adjusting his pince-nez. “Let’s see the dress then. And the note if any came with it.”

Dorothea hands the dress to him and the note. Lazar takes it all in with a careful and scrutinizing gaze.

“Ah, it appears that you are mistaken, Lady Dorothea,” Lazar says with an easy smile. “For you see, I was the one to take down this particular dictation myself,” he continues, while gently waving the note like a small fan.

“Dictation?” Dorothea asks.

“Why, yes. Beautiful lady came down with the flowers and the dress. Asked me to write the note since she said she couldn’t read or write Fodlan. Asked the dress and the flowers and the note to be taken down to you right away.”

“And this woman… was the princess of Brigid?” Dorothea presses.

“Well, that’s what she told me to write,” Lazar says, shrugging.

“Do you mind… describing her to me?” Dorothea asks.

“Well, I’d say a little on the taller side… lots of braids, muscular, beautiful brown skin… other than that, I couldn’t say I remember…” Lazar shrugs again.

“Alright, thank you for your time, Lazar. And sorry to keep you from your work.”

“Not a problem at all, lady. Anytime you want to keep me from my work would be more than welcome,” he says, with a genial smile and a wink.

Dorothea smiles and leaves.

She gets her costume and dressing room ready for her next performance all the while plotting. She had to go and meet with Edie and Byleth tomorrow.

\------------------------------

Dorothea doesn’t know exactly how she is going to get in to see Edie now that she is standing in front of her castle, but being a part of Her Majesty’s strike force has to count for something, didn’t it?

Dorothea demands to see Edie with every new guard that comes to speak to her. They try to tell her that Her Majesty is very busy. Her Majesty is in a meeting. Her Majesty is this. Her Majesty is that. Dorothea doesn’t stop until she’s face to face with Hubert.

“Dorothea,” he says as a greeting.

“Hubie,” she says in return.

“Wonderful to see you.”

“Likewise.”

“How’s the theater?”

“Grand. How’s the husband?”

Hubert sighs. “Ferdinand is off on one of his galavanting whims. He won’t be back until after the ball I am afraid.”

Dorothea nods.

“I understand that you are here to see Her Majesty. And quite frankly, Dorothea, she is very busy at the moment and won’t be able to see you. Might you have time after the ball?”

Dorothea had been patient with the knights and the guards. Insistent, but patient. She did not snap at them but fervently asked to see Edie. But with each guard and each knight and each block she had between her and an explanation that she felt she was owed, her frustration ticked up just the tiniest bit. Now, it had just overflowed.

“Hubie, quite frankly, I am at my wit’s end and I have run out of patience. I cannot wait until after the ball because that is precisely what I am here to talk about! I need to know if Edie has been making promises or decisions for me regarding the ball. So, will you please let me talk to her? I will not take up more of her precious time than needed, I assure you.”

Hubert stares at Dorothea. “Now, correct me if I am in error, Dorothea, but… does what you just described… making promises for you or making decisions for you… does that sound like Lady Edelgard? Does that sound like something she would do?”

Dorothea deflates. “No, but I still would like to talk to her… please.”

Hubert sighs again. He looks at his wrist watch and says, “I suppose, Her Majesty will be free during lunch.”

Dorothea wraps her arms around Hubert. “Thank you, Hubie,” she sing-songs.

Dorothea hears Hubert sigh again and say, “Right this way…”

Hubert lets Dorothea wait in ‘Her Majesty’s drawing room’ in her personal quarters. A servant is told to keep her company and to tend to her every need. Dorothea can’t help but feel they are also there to keep an eye on her.

When the clock strikes noon exactly, Edelgard strides in with Byleth and diplomats at her heels. She’s giving them orders and pointing this way and that while some diplomats nod approvingly and others write furiously on their pads of paper. After a bit of time and a bit more orders, Byleth gently places a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder and says to the crowd, “Her Majesty has a very important meeting now. You all are dismissed.”

Edelgard shoots Byleth a questioning look but ascents and waves her entourage away.

The diplomats flee like mice but not before bowing and saying in chorus, “Long live Her Majesty!”

When they disappear, Edelgard turns to Byleth and says, “My love, I know I’ve been busy but this is hardly the time to take me away from my work.”

“It is an important meeting, my love,” Byleth says nodding to Dorothea.

Edelgard looks toward her and is too slow to hide a look of confusion. Or perhaps concern.

“Hi, Edie,” Dorothea sing-songs while wiggling her fingers at her in greeting.

“Dorothea! I’m sorry I wasn’t expecting you!”

Edelgard walks over to Dorothea and they grasp hands.

“That’s quite alright,” Dorothea says. “I was simply enjoying the show. A masterful performance as a worldly leader indeed.”

Edelgard blushes and says, “Oh please. Not much of a performance at all. Quite dull actually.”

The servant attending to Dorothea ushers them to sit at a table and assures them lunch will be served momentarily and then makes their exit to give them some privacy.

They converse for a bit, mostly about Edelgard’s frustration with the diplomatic firestorm of making preparations for a princess with an entirely different culture and needs.

When lunch is served, Edelgard asks, “While it’s lovely to see you, Dorothea, I must ask. Is there a reason you have come to see me today?”

Dorothea takes out the note and slides it toward Edelgard.

“You don’t happen to know anything about this, do you?”

She allows Edelgard a moment to read the note before continuing.

“Because I very clearly remember refusing this proposed… proposal not once but twice.”

“I…” Edelgard starts but doesn’t finish.

If it were another situation, Dorothea might have galked. Edelgard, proud Empress of the Adrestian Empire, at a loss for words?

Dorothea manages to keep her temper in check until Edelgard begins to speak again.

“I promise on my life that I don’t know a thing about this…”

“What?”

“I… How did you come to possess such a note?”

“Last night, I had finished the performance and an usher came by with a dress and that note. The commissary master told me he had to write the note for a tall beautiful woman.”

“I do not know what to make of this. Our understanding was that the princess would not arrive within our borders until at least in three or four days' time.”

Edelgard offers the note back to Dorothea who accepts it.

All of the fire that had been stoked in her stomach had fizzled out. Edelgard was never one to lie. Even about things such as this. If Dorothea has caught her in some ruse, then Dorothea has no doubt in her mind that Edelgard would at least come clean about it.

This outcome is something that she had not expected.

“Then… who left me this note?” Dorothea asked weakly. “And the dress? The dress certainly looks like it could be of Brigid.”

“How can you tell?” asked Edelgard.

“Because of Petra.”

Edelgard’s eyes widen at the name.

“She’s a woman I met in the marketplace. She tells me she is from Brigid and the dress I received is similar to her own dress.”

Edelgard and Byleth share a look.

The fire is stoked again and Dorothea exclaims, “If there is something that you two would like to say, please share!”

Both of their eyes grow soft but Byleth’s eyes glint with the tiniest hint of humor.

“Dorothea,” Edelgard begins.

The tone alone has Dorothea’s hackles raised.

“Petra is the name of the Princess of Brigid.”


End file.
